


The Worst That Could Happen

by Sroloc_Elbisivni



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Human AI, RvB Fluff Week, just theta really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sroloc_Elbisivni/pseuds/Sroloc_Elbisivni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, why Tucker is no longer allowed to tempt Murphy's Law<br/>Alternate titles include Everything In Wash's Life Goes Wrong, Well Fuck, and Why None of These Nerds Should Have Children. </p><p>Tucker and Wash are babysitting Theta for a week. By sheer proximity, the rest of the Blood Gulch crew are babysitting Theta. It goes about as well as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst That Could Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



> For the fluff war on Tumblr, secretlystephaniebrown prompted “Theta meets the gang: cue a wide variety of parental instincts with varying success levels.” I delivered that, PLUS 1020 words of everything in Wash’s life going wrong, in a modern coffee shop-ish AU of questionable quality that ballooned wildly into random plot.
> 
> No Church because I wasn’t exactly sure how it would work. Also, it’s never mentioned, but I’ve decided Lopez is the coffee machine that none of the guys are really sure how to use.

“This is a bad plan.”

“This is a  _horrible_  plan.” 

North ignored both Tucker and Wash’s  _perfectly valid_  objections. “I need to travel to meet with this client, South’s still on tour, and Theta loves hanging out with Junior. You guys have watched him before. It’ll be  _fine_.”

“Not for a whole  _week_.” 

“It’s summer vacation, so he doesn’t need to be at school, and his camp is right by the gym. You can just drop him off.”

Junior tugged on Wash’s sleeve, and signed excitedly,  _sleepover week!_

“If…if money is an issue,” North offered, hesitantly, “I can pay for groceries and whatever else extra you might need. I really am sorry to dump this on you, I just didn’t know who else to ask.”

If Wash could figure out exactly a six-foot-two ex-Marine could pull off such a convincing guilty puppy expression, he’d make a fortune. 

“Jesus, North, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it. Just…stop, with the…” Tucker waved at his face. “The that. Stop with the that already. Hey, Junior, wanna help Theta go get his stuff set up in your room?”

Junior punched the air and took off towards the living room. 

North let out a huge sigh. “Thank you guys, so much. If there’s any problems, just call, let me know, I’ll manage to make it back.”

Tucker and Wash exchanged a glance behind North’s back. Carolina and North had been trying to land this major client for  _months,_  and this was as close as they’d ever gotten. There was no way they were going to do anything that would let it go less than perfectly. 

“Nah, dude, don’t worry about it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

At first, nothing did. Wash headed out to Carolina’s gym the next morning with Theta in tow and dropped him off at the elementary school where the summer camp was taking place. There was a minor scare with the contents of his lunch, but that got sorted out pretty quick, and Wash was walking into the parking lot at work only a few minutes later than his usual time. 

The sight of Carolina on her phone, yelling at someone, was fairly usual. Her doing it in the parking lot next to a utility truck was not. 

“Well, then  _get_  me the insurance representative! Why is that—no. No, that’s not it, that’s not my prob—no, I  _made_  those payments, good—Wash!” She waved at him. “Look, I can be at your office  _with_  the paperwork in an hour, just make sure he’s there. Okay? Okay.” She hung up. “Wash, I was going to call you. The pipes are busted and the insurance company’s riding my ass about it, I don’t know when we’re going to be able to open. It’s gonna be a few days, at least.”

“Well, fuck.” Wash dragged a hand down his face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Carolina waved him off. “Nah, the city’s looking at it. Most of the issue’s in the damage paperwork and I can handle that myself. Sheila’s already sent out an email to all the clients. Just go home, take a nap or something. Enjoy the time off. I’ll call you later and let you know how it’s going.”

* * *

So Wash figured that he’d just walk over to the summer camp when it was time for it to get out, instead of picking up Theta on his way home from work. Maine was keeping an eye on Junior and Tucker was at the café, so he had actually planned to take a nap. 

He was halfway through a very odd dream involving a door that refused to lock and a curious fox when his phone rang.

The number wasn’t one he recognized, but he picked it up anyways. 

“H’lo?”

“Hi, yes, this is Katie from Armonia Arts Camp.”

“Armonia—did something happen to Theta?”

“Oh, no, he’s fine—I’m just afraid that there’s been a small outbreak of head lice, and we’re closing the camp until further notice. Are you available to come pick him up?”

“Yeah—yeah, I can be right there.”

“Okay! We’ll be out front waiting for you.”

“Got it.” Wash hung up the phone and stared at it in his hands. 

“Well, fuck.” 

* * *

At least the gym being closed meant he was able to keep an eye on Theta at home. A movie kept him distracted while Wash finished up the chores, lunch was lemonade and PB&J, and the day was nice enough to drag his ramps out of the apartment building’s basement and show Theta some skateboarding tricks in the parking lot. 

Of course, it wasn’t until  _after_  one of the struts collapsed and Wash was waking up on his back with a stabbing pain in his head that he remembered he hadn’t checked the ramps since the basement got flooded last year. 

“Mr. Wash! Mr. Wash, are you dead?”

Theta’s voice felt way too loud, and his head didn’t want to stay in one place in Wash’s vision. Crap.

“Theta, I’m not dead, I just—” Wash fought down a wave of nausea. “I  _really_  hurt my head. I need you to call Tucker, okay?”

* * *

One trip to the hospital and an entirely-too-cheerful doctor later, it was confirmed—Wash had a concussion.

Tucker summed it up perfectly in the emergency room while they were waiting for a discharge.

“Well, fuck.”

* * *

By unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about it until the boys were out of earshot.

“So the camp’s closed because of head lice, the gym’s closed because of burst water pipes, and there’s no way you can keep up with Theta all day with that concussion. Kid’s got the energy of a fucking Energizer Bunny.”

“Carolina’s tied up in paperwork, Maine doesn’t have the time to watch  _another_  kid, South’s  _still_  out of town…”

“York?”

“Also out of town. Reggie, maybe?”

“No fucking way.” Tucker frowned. “I’ll just take him into work with me, he can chill in the back room.”

“Whoa, wait, hold up. Didn’t you tell that your manager might be an actual lunatic?”

“He’s a little…twitchy. But he mostly stays in his office, I’m sure we can keep Theta out of his way.”

* * *

“Okay, Theta, you’ve got your stuff, right? Crayons?”

“Check!”

“Paper?”

“Check!”

“Books?”

“Check!”

“Your skateboard?”

Theta held up the little toy skateboard North had given him. “Check!”

“Wash’s skateboard so he can’t hurt himself again?”

Theta held up Wash’s skateboard. Tucker had forbidden him to actually use it, it should be fine. “Check!”

“Then I guess we’re all ready to go.” 

* * *

The Blood Gulch Café had begun life as a coffee shop and deli vying for the same space inside a store. Tucker still had fond memories of showing up as early as three in the morning to lay claim to the outside window. 

Wait, did he say “fond?” He meant “horrible.” Horrible memories. Charon Industries buying up both sides and ordering them to play nice had been an actual godsend. 

“Goood morning, suckers!” Tucker unlocked the back door with the smugness of someone who didn’t have to get up at five in the morning. “How’s life in barista-land? Oh, and before you say anything, you might wanna know that there’s a seven-year-old listening.”

“Oh, fudge you.” So Grif was here, then.

Donut poked his head out of the door to the front. “Didn’t Junior just have a birthday?”

“Yeah, dude. This is—” Tucker felt something grab his legs and looked down. Theta was standing right behind him, peering nervously at Donut. “Hey, don’t worry. Theta, this is Donut, he works here. He’s cool. Donut, this is Theta. He’s Wash’s friend’s kid, he’s staying with us for the week.” Tucker forgot how cripplingly shy Theta could be around new people. 

“Hey, Theta. My name’s Franklin, but everyone calls me Donut.” Donut bent down to look Theta in the eye, but Theta just hid his face.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that, Theta. It’s okay, everyone’s  _really excited to see you_!” Tucker raises his voice so Grif and Simmons get the hint. 

“Is that a skateboard?” Donut asked. 

Theta looked up. “Yeah…”

“It’s really cool! I bet you know all sorts of tricks.”

“It’s Mr. Wash’s. He got hurt using it, so Mr. Tucker said I could keep an eye on it and make sure he doesn’t use it till he’s better.”

Donut looks a little worried, but he smiles anyways. “And I bet you’re taking really good care of it! Do you want me to show you a safe place to put it?”

Theta looked up at Tucker, and Tucker nodded at him. “S’okay.”

“Okay.”

Donut held out his hand and Theta took it, following him into the main café. 

Tucker exhaled. One down, three to go.

* * *

They got Theta set up behind the deli counter, turning the skateboard upside down and putting it across two crates for a little desk. He was drawing something with his crayons on paper, idly spinning one of the wheels every so often. 

Simmons, tidying one of the tables in front of the window, was eying the seven-year-old like a wild animal. Grif had looked up when Theta entered and then immediately gone back to his usual state of indolence on the other side of the wall that divided the coffee shop counter from the deli counter. 

Tucker, watching the whole mess, just thought that it was a good thing Donut was around to serve customers, because none of the rest of them were doing  _anything._

“Hello! I am here!” a voice called from the back room. Caboose bounded in, his apron flapping loose around his neck. 

“Caboose, seriously?”

Caboose gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Look, just—hold still.” Tucker turned him around and tied up the apron strings. Before he was done, Caboose stiffened up.

“Tucker. Tucker. Tucker Tucker Tucker—”

“ _What_ , Caboose?” He finished tying off the knot.

“There is a tiny person. In the corner.” Caboose still failed to grasp the concept of “whisper.” “He has crayons.”

“Yes. Yes he does. Caboose, this is Theta. Theta, this is Caboose.”

“Hello, Theta!” Caboose beamed. “I like your crayons! What is your favorite color? Mine is blue. Do you like blue?”

Theta stared at Caboose. “I—I like blue. And pink.”

“Ahhh.” Caboose nodded solemnly. “Lightish red. That is a good color too.”

That got a small grin out of the boy, and Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Okay, Caboose, can you check on the bread now?”

“I can do that.” Caboose wandered off into the back room.

“Hey Theta? If he asks to use your crayons and you don’t want him to, let me know and I’ll distract him.”

“I—I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but let me know anyways, he has to do actual work at some point.”

* * *

Everything ran fine until right before Grif and Simmons had their break. Theta had been outside once already, but now that he was back in, he was starting to get antsy, spinning one of the upright wheels repeatedly and picking at the paper wrapped around the crayon. 

Simmons had vanished into the coffee shop side of the back room a while ago, and all of a sudden Tucker could hear him speaking in a much louder than normal voice.

“Oh! Sarge! How good to see you!  _Everything is fine here._ ”

“What in the Sam Hill are you yelling about, Simmons? I’m right here.”

“Yes! You are  _right here_!”

“ _Crap_.” Tucker muttered. “Hey, Theta, my boss might not actually be too happy at me for bringing you in here, so take the exit out to the back yard from the main area, alright? I’ll let you in from the service entrance there.”

Theta, thank fuck, just nodded and ducked out the back door into the tiny courtyard that had a table and a bench and not much else. 

“Tucker, why in tarnation do you have crayons back there?”

Just in time. Sarge was beginning his day with inspections, apparently. 

“They’re Caboose’s.”

“Uh huh. What’s with the skateboard? Your boyfriend better not be back there. You know how I feel about fraternizing around the meat!”

“Ew, no, please never say that again. And also no. He hurt himself, I took it away.”

“Sounds like you handle your boyfriend very responsibly, Tucker.”

Fucking Donut. “Okay, I’m not talking to either of you.”

“You’re talking to me as long as it takes to inspect your dirty blue counter!”

Fuck. Sarge’s inspections could take  _forever,_  and Theta was stuck outside until someone could let him in the locked service entrance, and the only one not in here was fucking  _Grif._

Theta was never going to speak again. Great.

* * *

But when Sarge finally went back into his office and Tucker could go unlock the service door to the courtyard, he heard Theta chattering away at a mile a minute.

“—Aunt South smokes too and Dad says that it’s bad for her lungs but she just tells him that they’re her lungs and she can do what she wants but she uses more bad words, and she says she likes it but when she was watching me she didn’t actually ever have one and—”

Tucker looked around the door frame to see Grif leaning back against the wall of the courtyard and smoking, watching Theta with an expression on his face that was as close to “amiable” as Tucker had ever seen it get. Theta, for his part, was sitting on the stone bench, swinging his legs and gesturing widely.

“Theta!” Tucker called out. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah!” Theta hopped down and ran over to Tucker. “This is Grif, ‘n he’s got tattoos. He grew up in Hawaii, didja know?”

“Really? That’s awesome, dude, high five.” After the high five, Tucker tells him, “Okay, my boss is back in his office now, so if you want to go back and hang out behind the counter, you can.”

Theta bit his lip. “Can I hang out behind  _his_  counter?” He pointed at Grif.

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him.” It was closer to Sarge’s office, which meant that this whole plan just got a  _lot_  more risky. He glared at Grif, hoping to convey  _don’t do it you fucktard or I will steal all your hidden Oreos_  with the force of his eyes alone.

Which was probably a mistake, because the contrary bastard just shrugged and said “Sure, why not?”

* * *

Donut had no problem with a small child underfoot, Grif handled Theta being around like he handled everything else—with as little effort as possible—and Caboose was getting more of his work done without the distraction of a playmate and crayons. 

The only problem was Sarge in his office, which was just behind the one door out of the three on the back wall closest to the coffee counter. 

And, to Tucker’s surprise and amusement, Simmons. The man was going out of his way to stay as far away from Theta’s corner as possible. Theta seemed lost in his own little world, but Tucker could see his shoulders drooping a little bit more every time Simmons got further away. 

Tucker waited until he and Simmons were both manning the window, and then jabbed him in the side, earning a squawk. 

“Dude. Theta’s shy, and now he thinks you hate him. Quit treating the kid like he’s got the goddamn plague.”

“Sorry, I just…” Simmons flailed one hand around. “I don’t know what to  _do_  with kids!”

“You’ve been fine with Junior!”

“Junior’s different!”

“Not really!” Tucker turned around and put on his “customers” persona as someone came up for a sandwich. 

“Look,” he said, after the guy had gone away. “Just…go talk to him, alright? He’s a kid. He likes skateboarding and fireworks and dogs. He’s cool.” 

“I don’t really think that’s a…”

“ _Go._ ”

Simmons went. Tucker mentally congratulated himself on a job well done. 

“Uh, hey there little guy. What’s your name?”

“I’m not little. I’m seven.”

“Right, right. So you’re in…kindergarten now?”

…Never mind.

Tucker sighed and turned around to start mitigating the damage, but froze when he saw Sarge’s office door opening. 

“Simmons!” he hissed, pointing frantically.

Simmons looked around wildly, and then for some incomprehensible reason, grabbed one of the large towels they used for bad spills and tossed it over Theta.

There was a squeak and then giggling. 

Tucker fought the unprofessional urge to bury his face in his hands and turned back to serving customers. Maybe if he was busy, Sarge wouldn’t yell at him as much. 

“Grif! Are you slacking off again?”

“I’m allowed my union breaks!”

“We aren’t part of a union, fatass,” Simmons snapped at him, and then froze and looked at the towel.

It was still giggling, but more quietly now. 

Sarge glared at all of them in turn, and Tucker figured the jig  _had_  to be up, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to admit it. 

“Well, you better get back to work. I don’t pay you to stand around and do nothing!”

“You don’t pay me, the—” Simmons elbowed Grif in the ribs before he could launch into an argument that would just keep Sarge around longer. 

Tucker lost the rest of the exchange as he had to put together a sandwich for another customer, but when he turned back around, Sarge was back in his office. Crisis averted. 

Theta was bothered not at all at being put under a towel, and in fact enlisted Simmons’s help in using it to construct a makeshift fort. There were no more age-related slights, so Tucker took it in stride. 

* * *

The rest of the day was similarly nerve-wracking. At one point, Theta actually ended up crawling from the red side of the counter to the blue side and back again as Sarge paced around inspecting the floor. Tucker almost burned himself twice on the panini press before the man finally went back into his office. 

But finally,  _finally_ , it was almost the end of his shift, and Tucker could lean back against the counter and sigh with relief. 

Then, of course, his phone went off.

“Wash?”

“ _Hey, Tucker. So you remember how Theta’s camp closed down because of head lice?”_

“Yeah?”

“ _One of the other kids Maine looks after has a sibling who goes there.”_

“Oh, no.” Tucker resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and cry. “Please, please don’t tell me…”

 _“Long story short, Junior_ really _needs that haircut now.”_

“You have  _got_  to be kidding me.”

“ _Wish I was. Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do with Theta? Could one of your co-workers—”_

 _“_ NO. Just—trust me on this. No.” He’d seen all their places, and none of them were remotely equipped to deal with a kid. Not to mention that Theta deserved better. “North’s going to kill us.”

“ _No, he won’t kill us. He’ll just look very disappointed in us. I’ll try to get Junior and the apartment cleaned up before you get home, but…”_

“Yeah, I know. I’ll take him for ice cream or something, buy you some more time.”

He hung up the phone, leaned back against the counter, and slid down with a loud, dramatic groan until he was sitting on the floor.

“Whoa. What’s up with you?” Grif was watching him from where he was bussing tables with the modicum of interest he reserved for other people’s suffering. 

“Junior has head lice.” He looked around, but Theta wasn’t in sight, so he was probably talking to Donut. “But we can’t put Theta anywhere else, and he’s sharing Junior’s room, so I can’t bring him back here tomorrow and Wash is  _still_  too concussed to watch him.”

“What? You’ve been letting this rugrat in the same room as yer idiot boyfriend when he’s even more of an idiot than usual?”

Tucker didn’t want to stand up. At all. He didn’t want to see the looming spectre of doom that was Sarge.

Wait a minute. What had he…

Tucker hauled himself up and looked through the window to the red counter to see Theta sitting on it and swinging his legs…directly in front of Sarge. Who didn’t even look that mad.

“…Sarge? You met Theta?”

Sarge  _hmphed._  “Met him on my way in. You really think you can hide anything from me on my own turf?”

“He said we could play secret hide-and-seek. And I won!”

“I told’ja you had to hide until the end of the blue’s shift!”

“He’s done now, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sarge waved him off. “You said yer kid’s got head lice?”

“Yeah. I can probably avoid it, but Theta and Junior really shouldn’t be in the same room right now.”

“Problem solved. He can stay with me and Emily.”

“What?”

“We’re right down the street, and if he doesn’t have cooties, he can just come in here tomorrow and do what he’s been doing.”

“I want to!”

“You don’t…mind?” And Tucker could probably be a little more suspicious, but sue him, the day had been way too long.

“Mind? I  _mind_  that you had the audacity to think you could keep such valuable tactical information from me! Clearly, I need to increase my patrols. Good thing I’ve got a new soldier on the case.”

Well, fuck. What’s the worst that could happen?

* * *

_The next day:_

“Mr. Sarge says I shouldn’t talk to you because you’re a dirty blue and pollute the reputation of the glorious red army.”

“Goddamnit.”


End file.
